Is it strange that I want to shrink my Mom and carry her in my pocket so I can have her with me all the time, like a pocket full of starlight that I can throw up in the sky when it seems especially dark?
I bought this skirt for $5 in Venice Beach in 1990, and wore it backpacking all over the world for years. Together we drank cappuccinos in Hemingways cafe in Paris, and espressos on the cliffs of Greece with the cafe owner who didn’t speak English. It was always my skirt, my journal, and me, sitting on the train station steps somewhere.
Christmas this year was not what I expected…
Packing tip: if you are traveling with large hats, don’t pack them, wear them.
Wouldn’t it be dreamy if people started wearing large hats while traveling? Out with sweatpants and messy buns… in with large hats and beautiful travel attire!
Whenever I enter a hat shop while traveling, my fantasy world kicks into overdrive, and with each one I try on, I become different characters dropped into fantastic worlds.
I inevitably fall in love with the biggest, most ornate ones, and I’m overcome with that feeling of “My life will not be complete without you, oh darling hat!”
My bus arrived, and I loaded my bags and sat down. When I looked back out my window, the butcher was standing outside, looking at me, his moustache curled up as he pointed his finger. I looked where he was pointing, and saw the butterfly fluttering right by my window, the sun shining through its wings like they were delicate stained glass windows in an ancient cathedral, and I had to glance down to make sure I was actually on a bus and not a magic tapestry.
One of my favorite dinner party questions is, “Name three books that changed your life.” I love to hear people really think about this question and answer as I usually learn a lot about them. If someone were ever to ask me this question, the first book I would name is Brothers Karamazov by Dostoyevsky.
Humor me if you will, and picture this: 1) a chicken trying to fly; 2) a dog doing a full body shake after a bath; 3) and an oompa loompa doing jumping jacks. Now, meld those three images together. Got it? If so, you have a pretty good idea of what I looked like at a samba class the other night.
I never thought I’d find myself backpacking to Prague in 1990, walking the cobblestone streets with lanterns creating dancing shadows on the walls, surrounded by centuries of history, shrouded in myths and a whispering river, sounds that conjured up tall ancient churches with stained glass windows and flickering candles, sounds that invited us to explore this magnificent city that seemed so strange and exotic.
How did I end up dancing with Paul McCartney on his tour in Boston?
Who needs Tiffany’s when we’ve got sunlight sparkling on the sea? I do! I love Tiffany’s! The first monologue I ever performed in high school drama class was Holly Golightly getting ready to go see Sally Tomato in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. I studied the scene
